by Ricky Fleet
“Why did you have to leave me? You should have saved yourself,” he whispered and the glass fogged inches from his face.
He felt guilty for harboring the wish that one of the others had sacrificed themselves, instead of Paige. His selfish desire for a true love that would fill the void that Debbie’s vindictive abuse had left in him wasn’t unusual, but he still felt rotten anyway. Every single one of them had risked their life for his in some form or other and he forced the self-pity down deep inside. If he couldn’t get past it, it would consume him and alienate him from the group.
“Sort it out, you pathetic bastard,” he muttered to his vague reflection.
Movement from behind caused him to jump like a teenager caught masturbating and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment at his inner thoughts. Kurt had woken and heard his friend’s faint whispers, thinking that he wasn’t alone.
“Hey, Pete, are you ok?” Kurt asked.
“Yeah, fine. I was just thinking out loud, sorry if I woke you. Get back to sleep and I will wake you up in a while,” he babbled, the words pouring out.
“No, it’s fine. I will keep you company,” Kurt replied. He didn’t want to leave Peter alone in the dark with all the emotions he would be facing. They fell silent and Kurt’s presence was enough to give some new strength to Peter. His resolve returned and the shame turned to burning hatred. Kurt watched him surreptitiously and saw the changes in his face; from forlorn, to an angry scowl. Peter caught Kurt in his peripheral vision and saw he was smiling.
“Are you ready now?” Kurt asked, holding out the glossy square picture.
Peter looked at it and was shocked to see his hand reach out and take it. He wasn’t ready to look just yet, and instead held it against his chest. A calm spread through his body and he imagined he could feel Paige behind him, her arms encircling him with love.
“Thank you for keeping it safe,” Peter said and Kurt nodded, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder.
“Anytime, mate,” Kurt said and looked back out of the window. The glow on the horizon grew in intensity as if someone was slowly turning a dimmer switch up. The first rays of sunshine reached them and they felt the warmth, sighing as the cold was driven away slightly. In the distance a rooster crowed, announcing both the morning’s arrival and its presence to anything that may be listening.
“What I wouldn’t give for some roast chicken,” Peter said, licking his lips.
“We have some tinned chicken. The awful jelly doesn’t help though,” Kurt smiled and wrinkled his nose. It felt like eating meaty phlegm.
“I vote we go and find that bird before we do anything else,” Peter joked. The rest of the group were rousing themselves from slumber, with yawns and stretches coming from the two compartments.
“When we are safe, we are definitely going to get some chickens. Just think of all those eggs,” Kurt said, his mouth watering at the thought.
“I’ll hold you to that. Looks like everyone’s up,” Peter commented and they rejoined the others.
“Morning, all,” DB said, stretching. Because of his size he couldn’t stretch properly and had to bow down to get the numbness out of his arms. His cramped sleeping space hadn’t been conducive to a good night’s sleep.
“It was better than sleeping under the stars, but I’d kill for a soft mattress,” Jonesy said to the gathered survivors which brought weary chuckles.
“What’s next?” Braiden asked.
“We arm up and push on for Ford. I highly doubt the roads will be clear of cars so we will have to think on our feet. The railway track drops off towards Angmering so we can’t follow it any further,” John explained.
“Give us twenty minutes to do a quick field clean of the guns and we will roll out. Gloria, let me have the shotgun and we will spruce it up for you.” DB held out his hand and Gloria passed the gun.
The boys watched in fascination as the two soldiers stripped their guns on the bonnets of the two military vehicles. Components were unclipped and placed carefully on the blanket that had been unfurled to keep the parts dry. They sprayed each piece and wiped away any dust or residue that had gathered in the mechanisms. Oil was applied to the sections after they had been cleaned and they were expertly reassembled within minutes.
“That was so cool,” Braiden exclaimed.
“I tell you what. When we get to the castle, I will show you how it all works and teach you how to use one. How does that sound?” Jonesy offered and the boy’s eyes went wide with excitement.
“That would be great, I think your guns do more damage than this,” Sam said, raising the slingshot.
“I don’t know. I’ve seen you use that thing and you are lethal.” DB grinned and patted him on the back. The praise from the soldier made him look like the cat that got the cream, Braiden was sure he could hear him purr.
Peter handed out small plastic bowls of canned fruit, a light breakfast high in energy for what they may face. He was happy to keep busy, as it kept his mind from dwelling on the truth. Lost in the task, he had accidentally filled an extra bowl, throwing it away in anger when he remembered its contents would not be needed any more. This brought renewed tears that dripped onto his waterproof life preserver.
All preparations had been made and the two vehicles moved off from their overnight shelter. The trapped zombies in the detached carriages hammered on the toughened glass, saying farewell to the breakfast they would never eat. The tires rumbled over the sleepers as they progressed down the track and John pulled up when Jonesy slapped on the roof. They were half a mile away from the station and the binoculars revealed a crowd of zombies gathered on the tracks as well as waiting on the platforms. Jonesy shuddered and looked behind him, imagining a rusted, burning train was going to speed past to pick up the passengers on their final journey to hell. He shook the macabre thought out of his mind and indicated for Jodi to pull alongside. DB looked over, waiting for an update.
“The station is dead city, mate. There are cars abandoned over the gates too, so we would need to push though,” Jonesy explained. “Let’s head back.”
“I may have a solution,” John called up from the driver’s seat.
“I’m all ears,” said DB.
John climbed out of the Foxhound so he could better detail his plan. “Before I even tell you, how much power have those beasts got?” he asked, pointing at the camouflaged vehicles.
“They have three-point-two-liter turbo diesel engines, enough to haul that weight about on the battlefield,” Jonesy replied, slapping the Foxhound.
John stared thoughtfully for a few moments while he mulled over his idea. Kurt had climbed out and interrupted his thinking.
“What’s up?” he said, looking at the trio. DB and Jonesy just pointed at John who had come to a conclusion.
“I think we can push our train carriage along the tracks and let it clear a path for us. It’s nearly fifty tons and if we can get it rolling there is a slight downhill gradient past the one-mile signal,” he talked aloud even though he was still working out the logistics of the move.
“So a fifty-ton battering ram?” Kurt laughed and John clapped his hands together.
“Exactly! I think we can use it as bait as well, to lure them away from the station. If we set it on fire, they should want to follow it if our previous experience is anything to go by,” John surmised after their home and the block of flats they had burned. The matter was settled.
“Fuck it, let’s give it a try!” DB nodded his agreement and they mounted up and drove back to the disconnected train carriage.
“I haven’t done math since high school so my opinion may not count for much. How will that,” Jodi inquired, pointing at the armored carrier, “Push that?” she pointed at the heavy carriage.
It was true. The vehicle, despite its protective capabilities, was dwarfed by the train.
“It could burn the clutch out. Getting it rolling with sufficient speed is a whole different ballgame to dragging it a few feet,” John was deliberating
to himself again.
“Can’t we pull and push it at the same time?” added Christina.
“That’s a brilliant idea. Jonesy, do they have anything to tie to the coupler at the front?” John smiled at the doctor and they gathered a tow chain from the storage compartment.
“The trains are designed to be fire resistant, the seats don’t burn well,” Braiden revealed and his face darkened with embarrassment. The group ignored another glimpse into his colorful past and just accepted the information.
“We need to gather some stuff to burn then,” stated Gloria, giving the boy a quick hug.
They foraged in the fence line, ripping bushes and thin branches free and piling them by the train. Within fifteen minutes they had a huge pile of tinder and Sam hopped up into the carriage. They passed the material up and he crammed it into the private compartments, scratching himself on a thorn bush that Braiden had pulled free.
“Cheers, Braiden!” Sam called down, shooting his brother the pricked finger. He picked up a thin branch and launched it down at his giggling sibling.
“Missed!” Braiden called out, laughing after dodging to the side.
Honey didn’t miss a trick and claimed the stick, wagging her tail and dropping it at Braiden’s feet.
“Throw it for her a few times. She hasn’t had a chance to have much fun,” Sarah said and Braiden launched the stick down the track. The dog raced off in hot pursuit, causing the group to laugh at the innocent escapades. Seeing the hound rushing to and fro was therapeutic after the vile horror they had all witnessed. All activity ceased while they watched. Birds sung from the closest trees and took flight in a wild flock, moving synchronously towards another perch when Honey got too close in her mad rush.
“I think we are ready!” called down Sam.
“We are ready down here, light it up and hop on down,” answered Jonesy.
Sam set light to a couple of soiled blankets they no longer used and the fire quickly took hold, consuming the bushes and rotten branches. He jumped down and the soldier softened the fall by catching him under the armpits.
“All we need is to get it up to a brisk walk, four or five miles an hour should do. On the decline it might reach ten or fifteen and that should be enough clear our path. With any luck most of the locals will be tempted away from the station by the flames,” John instructed.
“If it won’t shift easily, or the clutches look like they may burn out, we give up and just go back,” Jonesy ordered. The plan wasn’t worth wrecking two perfectly good transports.
“Agreed. Let’s do this,” DB finished.
Everybody climbed aboard except Kurt who was the communication between the cars, standing to the side to shout information. Once the strange convoy got moving, he would hop in the open passenger door for the rest of the short journey. Sarah had been tasked with unlooping the chain from the rear of the Foxhound when they had reached the correct speed.
“Ok, slowly!” called Kurt and the engines roared with the effort.
The chain at the front pulled taut and the tires spun on the track. Jonesy eased off and opted to pull away slowly, allowing the clutch to do the work. He revved carefully, but the train seemed to be rooted to the spot. The smell of the overheating clutch rose through the floor and Jonesy was on the verge of giving up. With a shriek, whatever corrosion had seized the train overnight was freed and the huge wheels started to rotate, inch by agonizing inch. With the reduction in power needed, Jonesy was able to ease back and give the clutch a rest. The stench was being blown away by the open door and the slow passage of air through to the open rear doors.
“We are good!” Kurt shouted to DB in the rear who filled the growing gap and added his own vehicle’s power to the maneuver. DB gave him a thumbs up and Kurt hopped into the waiting seat.
“What speed are we at?” called Sarah from the back.
“We are at five… now. Pull the chain,” Jonesy shouted over his shoulder.
“For the love of God, mind your hands!” Kurt warned and looked at Jonesy. The soldier eased off the accelerator and dropped the clutch, slowing the lead vehicle by a fraction, allowing the chain to slacken enough for Sarah to quickly pull it loose and drop it.
The train carriage was trundling along slowly and Jonesy dropped to the side, mounting the rails and braking as it passed. He dropped into position behind DB and slowly pushed up from behind with a crump as his bumper met the back of the other. DB eased off and they split the load between the two Foxhounds to try and protect the engines from damage. Some of the carriage windows popped from the heat and glass shards scattered across the ground as they passed. The smoke was getting thicker and it was lucky that they reached the decline at that point or they would have had to back off and abandon the attempt.
“Fingers crossed everybody!” John shouted, wafting the smoke away. They quickly climbed out and lined up, watching the passage of the blazing train as it moved away.
Jonesy had a horrible feeling of déjà-vu as the fiery, hell bound train from his imagination gathered speed. He passed the binoculars to Kurt who got the full view of the destruction. The zombies on the track saw the harbinger as it came for them. It belched fire from the sides, the flames rising and taking on the shape of wings like a metallic phoenix. The fifty tons would never take flight, but the force of the slow moving behemoth churned every single zombie in its path without slowing by any fraction. The patiently waiting, rotting commuters were aghast to see their ride passing without stopping and flopped down onto the tracks like a group of lemmings. Instead of falling to their deaths like the suicidal creatures, they stood and gave chase. The hulk reached the cars and vans that had crashed or been abandoned on the crossing. It tossed them aside like matchbox toys, with some exploding as the petrol tanks were shattered and spilled their flammable liquid near the inferno that used to be a train carriage. One of the destroyed cars was trapped under the front and showered sparks as the chassis was dragged along the track, gradually forcing itself further beneath the undercarriage. The train came to a stop in the middle of the bridge that spanned the River Arun, dripping the melting bodywork with hissing splashes into the water below.
“They are taking the bait,” Kurt whispered, willing the groups still in the station to follow their brethren. He was intent upon the scene and the first dead reached the bridge. It was solely for trains and the bridge had no deck, only side alleys in case of emergency for the passengers to evacuate. Most of the zombies toppled through the gaps in the steel floor beams, dropping into the waiting water.
“There are only a handful left, it worked perfectly!” Kurt congratulated his father and they all celebrated quietly at the success.
“Our next dilemma is where we go when we reach the other side of the tracks. I know the roads will be jammed and I doubt the Hounds will take more of the damage we sustained while pushing the cars out of the way in Chichester,” Jonesy said, looking at the crumpled bodywork.
“We have more pressing problems,” DB warned, “Those aren’t rain clouds, I think we are going to be getting some heavy snow.”
In the distance the delicate wisps of white in the sky were gathering themselves into mighty cumulonimbus clouds, towering into the high atmosphere like the puffy battlements of a sky fortress.
“A storm? Un-fucking-believable!” hissed Kurt as their shelter burned on the bridge.
“We have an hour or so, then we will be in the thick of it,” DB continued.
“We need shelter, so we have two options I feel,” Gloria explained, “We go back and clear another carriage, which would keep us dry and warm. The danger is that the station will refill with the dead and we will be back to square one. Would the engines cope with another tug of war with the train carriages?” she looked to Jonesy.
“Not a chance,” he replied.
“Then it seems we must push on,” stated Gloria with a firm nod.
“I think you are right, love,” John backed her up and nobody complained. The thought of fighting thr
ough another carriage of zombies wasn’t a problem as such, they were all just desperate to keep moving. The goal would, quite literally, be in sight within a few miles. The huge towers and crenellations of the castle would loom large in the distance. A heartening sight for the survivors, but a terrifying visage for the soldiers of medieval times who would be marching to do battle at the base of the structure.
“When we reach the road we will need to think quickly. If the roads are blocked, do we try and go over the fields and gardens?” Jonesy pondered.
“There is a small mooring about a hundred yards up the river. If we can find a boat, we could load it up and get within throwing distance of the main guardhouse of the castle,” said Christina, pointing just to the right of the rising smoke of the train.
“We have tried that before at Emsworth when we tried to seek sanctuary at the barracks,” Kurt explained and DB and Jonesy looked away with shame, “There is no telling if there will be keys or the ability to get it started, if we get trapped on one we will just float out to sea.”
Seeing the sadness in the faces of the soldiers, Sarah gave them both a quick hug, “Kurt wasn’t trying to criticize you, you were only following orders.”
